#but they collectively went gin finally snapped seems fair

[ginkovskij]

i vanished from work for two days and half and literally no one asked about it they all assumed i had reached my limit and quit

[crucifythenburn]

People talk a lot of rightful shit about how Tommy treats women...

But I have yet to see anyone talk about how these women (who, again, I agree, he does treat horribly) actually do treat him terribly as well.

I honestly don't think any of the women Tommy finds himself with (with the arguable exception of Grace) ever truly care about who he is or what he's going through. The show repeatedly props him up to be some sort of prize for women to compete over and win. It's gross. He's still a person, and despite all his filth, he's still being objectified too. Just, hear me out... *lights cigarette*

In the beginning, Grace Burgess and Tammy Shelbe are honestly just a jumble of heterosexual nonsense. Their entire relationship is forced from the getgo, built on his nostalgia for Gretta, and the life he led before the war effectively changed him forever. What I find so odd about their relationship progression is that it isn't like Tommy hasn't killed people in front of others before. So, that night at the bar, when he snapped in front of her??? Ok, he was vulnerable and she saw it. Great. Good. But how exactly did he see her? 'You've seen me.' 'And you've seen me.' But what exactly did she do besides shoot a man that meant she'd been exposed in the same way as Tommy? It wasn't the first man she'd killed. So where was the vulnerability there? I must've missed it idk. Perhaps because she was willing to kill a man for Tommy? I'm very confused about it and I've watched it twice, please assist. Later on, when she confesses her love for Tommy and he doesn't accept it on account of her betrayal, she goes off to lead the life she wanted with Tommy with a man who could actually give it to her. But she couldn't stay away. Why? More on that in a moment.

Fast forward to May Carleton, whom I love, because she is the epitome of heterosexual female nonsense lol. May saw Tommy from across that balcony and she wanted him because of his big dick energy. Point blank periodT. Just like Arthur said, 'Rich women these days, all they want is working class cock.' Her motives were clear from the beginning with all that bidding against him for the horse; sizing him up. It was an entire powerplay and an exhilarating game for her, cemented when Grace asked her what she wanted from Tommy, and she answered, 'The same as you. I want to feel alive.'

So back to Grace, because I need to thank May for dragging Grace for filth. Because the only reason Grice brought her monkey ass back was because she went on ahead and tried to live her proper, boring life, with a man who was the complete opposite of Tommy, and she still wasn't happy. Why? Because Grace's pathology isn't as shallow as being the simple girl who wants the simple life. What she wanted was to change Tommy; to save him. To fix him. And a lot of us suffer from this particular affliction. The broken ones are always the prettiest. Don't even get me started on Trauma Bonds because this is already getting long and it's early and I haven't had my coffee yet hhhhh. But Grace's motives??? Huh. Well. Hmmm. She couldn't have a child with her husband either, so... Her return was awfully convenient, that's all I'm saying. I'll let you work that out for yourselves. *sips tea*

Now, to be fair, once Grace marries Tommy, I do see a shift for the better. She does make him talk to her about what he's going through and she does help him, just like he asked of her in season 1 when they first slept together: 'Will you help me? ... With everything. The whole fucking thing. Fucking life. Business. I found you. And you found me. We'll help each other.' So here comes season 3 and Finally. FINALLY we get a glimpse into a mutual exchange between Tommy and a female character. In season 1 she (unintentionally) breaks his heart. Because life is unfair. And yet again, his capacity for love is snatched away by the absurdity of life in season 3. And I weep for what could have been. I truly do. Because that's the healthiest we've ever seen Tommy. And we have Grace and Charlie to thank for that. I will never say that Grace treated him terribly, only that their relationship was built on an unhealthy foundation, and I don't know if they truly could have made it, because in the end, Tommy is who he is, and I don't think love, or family, or marriage has the power to change that. He needs professional help. And we all know he isn't going to get it. So how long, realistically, would he and Grace have lasted before her love turned to animosity toward the man that she always knew Tommy was? I wonder... Would Charlie have been used as a bargaining chip to get Tommy to fall in line? I don't put it past her. But let me move on because that rabbit hole gets deep...

So, back to May Carleton. She does try to help Tommy confront himself after Grace dies, but I never got the impression that she was doing it in order to help him. I thought she was doing it in order to dissect him. 'You're unlike any man I've ever met.' Yeah. We know, May. We all know. Tommy's special and she knew it from the moment she laid eyes on him, and just like she did horses, she bid on him. She wanted him just like any other possession, because that's what rich girls do. They possess. They collect. And like Tommy, who always gets what he wants, May does too. So what happens when two people who always get what they want get each other? May finally met her match with Tommy's particular brand of emotional unavailability, and she got hooked on the thrill of not being able to get what she wanted. That's honestly the extent of their relationship, and most of her interest in him. She has nothing to offer him, let's be real. Just try his damn Gin, May. jfc.

So, who's next? Right, let's talk about Lizzie Stark, who Tommy repeatedly uses and treats like a possession. Lizzie Stark, who, finally, after seasons of being treated like a piece of meat and wanting so badly to mean something to Tommy, winds up pregnant and lords that baby over Jessie as soon as she can, because, again, Tommy is a possession as well; a solidification of Lizzie's elevated status and a way out of her lot in life. She will forever be linked to him now, which is exactly what she's always wanted. Now, one could certainly argue that Tommy controlled her and manipulated her with the hope that maybe they could someday be more, but I mean, I'm not even gonna get into the whole John situation... Just do the fucking math here people. Lizzie has her motives, and they aren't as simple and innocent as her unrequited love for Tommy. I honestly think she'd sink her hooks into whoever she could in order to be relevant/legitimate. However, I do think Tommy actually connects with her on deeper levels than he does with any other women. That afternoon in that tunnel by The Cut, when he tells her about Gretta? He lied to her about his motives in that moment, but the thing is, Lizzie knew. She knew and she accepted being a substitute for Gretta, and allowing Tommy to use her as a means to recollect pieces of himself. He even goes on to say that she is the only one who kept his (already broken) heart from breaking. It's obvious he cares deeply for her. Perhaps as deeply as he is capable of. Unfortunately, that type of bond isn't enough for her. She wants the officiality. Because she deserves Tommy, yeah? She's earned him. Because, again, he is the prize to be won, right?

Who's next? Tatiana Petrovna. Do we even need to talk about Tatiana? I love her crazy ass but she only saw Tommy as a plaything. I'm glad she fucked with his head lol, but it wasn't because she cared. It was because it was fun to do. And like May and Grace, she wanted to feel alive. People like her can smell that trauma and those demons a mile away, because they've confronted their own darkness. Have I mentioned how much I love her? Because I love her. Also, I love her.

Anyway, that just leaves Jessie Eden. Now, this is actually the first relationship of Tommy's that I am down for, though I don't think it has the least bit of a chance at lasting. Mostly because I don't trust Tommy's motives at all. I don't think he gives a shit about Jessie. I think she is a pawn to him. But. BUT. I could be wrong. Since Tommy was actually on the same side as Jessie before the war, who knows where this could go? It certainly seems as if he's using her and she's using him, but we all know that all it takes is for Tommy to have an idea and make a decision and everything changes. Because Tommy only serves Thomas Shelby Unlimited™ and doesn't know how to stop or how to cope or who he even is without having a mission that needs accomplishing. Hhhh my poor troubled trash prince.... When will he rest? When will he let me rest? When will his heart and mind come back from the war? I am distraught.

Anyway, right, I'm actually rooting for Tommy and Jessie, but I know it's a long shot with a broken arrow at a moving target. In other words, it ain't gonna happen. If Grace taught me anything, it's that Tommy's relationships will always be volatile because he is a volatile person, and a woman, no matter how amazing, simply cannot change a man. That being said, I'm interested to see where he and Jessie go... And if Jessie will make the formidable adversary I know she has every capacity of being. Heh.

Who's excited for season 5?!

TL; DR: Tommy is trash and the way he treats women is trash but the way women treat him is just as trash. Change my mind. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[jeminy3]

FIRESIDE - Chapter 3

3. I'm not sure if I should show you what I've found.

has it gone for good?

or is it coming back around?

WARNINGS: suicidal talk/thinking, death mention, closeted feelings, yelling, callouts

Read on AO3 

Read on Google Docs

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5

- Back in the Present -

"...So, it was alright, I guess. She was alright, I mean. Don't know if I can say the same for myself."

...

"I mean, I tried. But she didn't seem into it as it went on. Dunno, maybe she could tell. At least she was nice enough not to say anything."

"...Not nice enough to at least leave me a note, or something. Just... poof, gone. Didn't even wake me."

...

"I'm not hung up. It was one night, I'll live. Not like it's the first time it's happened anyway."

...

"Hah, that's true. Look who I'm talking to."

Roy looks down from the horizon to what's in front of him: the grave of Brigadier General Maes Hughes. He's left another rose on it, alongside the other flowers and bouquets he's brought over the past two years. The grief's still there, but at least it's a more distant, empty feeling now.

He lets out a long, tired sigh. "...I know what you'd say. That I deserve better, right?"

He takes a swig from the small metal flask he's brought. It's some cheap gin, nothing special. Just something to take the edge off.

"You used to say that all the time. Didn't really help, but I guess it was better than nothing. We all know what I really deserve."

...

"Yeah? Wish I didn't."

...

"I guess so, yeah. It's nice while it lasts."

...

"Hah. You always made it look so easy. You were kind of an ass like that, y'know? Telling me to get married and all. But you didn't know, to be fair, so."

...

"Like I said, I'll live. This is nothing, compared to everything else I've been through."

...

"Well, it's looking like I'll be promoted soon, so... maybe it's not too long, now."

...

"I'll be fine. I'm kind of looking forward to it, actually. Maybe I'll see you again. See my parents, even. You'd better introduce me if they're there."

...

"I was a child, Maes. I'm practically a stranger now."

Roy glances back at the horizon, where the sun's dipping further and further from its high-noon position, the glare long-since faded from the surrounding clouds. He guesses that it must be getting close to two o' clock now. Break's almost over.

"It's getting late. Better get back to it, then."

...

"Yeah, I'll try. It's just... hard. You know."

He glances back over his shoulder as he turns to leave. "See you later, Maes."

Then he makes his way down the hill and out of the graveyard, away from the silence.

---

Breda approaches the break room door with some trepidation. It's quiet in there - too quiet. But he knows why. He sighs long-sufferingly, and pushes his way inside.

As soon as he enters, Havoc glares at him from the couch at the back of the room. And as Breda predicted, he's still in that mood. Leaning forward, arms draped over his knees, gritting his cigarette between his teeth, bouncing his foot vigorously. He's a ball of tension wound too tightly, ready to snap at any moment.

He's way too obvious at this point.

The others know as well, but are still keeping their distance from him. Riza in a chair near the center of the room, Fuery at the coffee pot in the corner, Falman by the water cooler to the left of the door. Safe positions.

Havoc meets Breda's eyes, jerks his chin. "He's at the graveyard again, isn't he?" he growls.

Breda shrugs. "Probably, yeah. His car wasn't out there when I looked."

"Tch..." Havoc clicks his tongue so harshly he almost hisses. With the smoke from his cigarette he looks every bit like the lit fuse of a bomb. He leans back, trying too hard to relax, crushing himself into the couch's back cushion.

He tears his cigarette out of his mouth, breathes out a uneven plume of smoke. "Typical. Talkin' to dead men when there's real ones right under his goddamn nose."

"You know how he is," Riza says evenly, but doesn't look at him.

He glares severely at her. "Yeah, but I don't have to like it."

Riza just shrugs at him. Breda can confidently say he's sized up the situation by now, and decides to move himself next to Falman by the water cooler, away from the door. The others aren't saying anything or making any moves, just glancing at Havoc nervously (especially Fuery). As usual, Breda decides to step up to the plate himself.

He gives Havoc a pointed look, putting his hands on his hips. "Y'know Jean, you could talk to him."

Havoc aims that glare right at Breda. "Oh yeah? And say what, exactly? Some sage relationship advice or somethin'? Sure, I'm the damn guru of that shit. Big help I'd be."

He's wide open. Breda looks him dead in eye, keeps his voice even and matter-of-fact.

"Jean... just tell him you love him already."

Direct hit. Havoc's eyes go wide, his jaw goes slack, his cheeks flush to the color of tomatoes. The tension snaps.

Havoc stares, stammers. "I- I don't-  W- what the HELL Breda?! Where'd that come from?!"

Breda frowns. After knowing Havoc for as long as he has, he can't be surprised. "Uh... from you, man. For what, the past year?"

"Two years now," Riza corrects.

"Possibly more, if you count anything before the Lab Three incident," Falman adds.

Havoc just gapes at all of them, mouth opening and closing like a fish. He's flushed down to his neck by now. "Wh- what the HELL are you talking about?! I- I'm not- I'm straight and you all know that!"

They all give him knowing looks. Fuery's turned away from the counter by now, arms crossed in front of his chest, face pinched with a look of absolute pity. "Jean, please. We're getting worried about you. You can't keep denying it forever."

Havoc scrambles to his feet and throws his cigarette to the floor, standing in this vaguely defensive stance with his fists up. "I- I'm not denying a goddamn thing! I like women! And he's our boss! And that's FINE!"

Fuery frowns further, looks him up and down. "...You don't seem fine with that."

"The hell d' you know, Kain?!" Havoc barks, shaking a fist. "Y'all don't know me!"

Fuery cringes further. He might've hit him a bit too directly, Breda thinks. The drawl only gets heavy when he's really pissed off. And he definitely is now, from how he's trembling slightly, gritting his teeth and flaring his nostrils like a bull. But honestly, Breda saw this coming, too.

He tries to save face for Fuery. "Jean, stop-"

Havoc turns on him, the bull ready to charge. "You stop, Heyman! And all y'all! Yer makin' shit up that don't exist!"

Breda shakes his head, fixes him with the disarming look he always uses when he has to silently tell Havoc that he's flying off the handle and needs to calm down. And as usual, Havoc catches it, closes his mouth, exhales through his nose, simmers down into a venomous glare.

"Forget it. Fuck y'all."

He strides to the door in a second, throws it open with enough force to make it slam against the wall, and leaves. The tension dissipates as his footsteps echo down the hallway, and everyone sighs collectively. Breda's glad he moved away ahead of time.

He scratches idly at his neck. "Honestly? I expected that."

"Same here," Falman says, defeated.

Fuery lifts his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose. "I'm gonna have a nervous breakdown for him at this rate."

Riza's leaning against her knees, rubbing her eyes and mumbling. "I'm getting a migraine."

Breda sighs deeply, again. "God... Was Rebecca ever this bad?"

Riza shakes her head, still covering her eyes. "Not nearly."

Fuery readjusts his glasses. "Well, you had the smart idea of confronting her early on, so it never got this bad."

Riza withdraws her hand and straightens. "Yeah, that's true."

"And Rebecca didn't follow you into bars just to spy on you from the smoking area," Breda adds.

Riza side-eyes him at that. "Well, yeah. I don't drown my feelings in booze and loose women. And Rebecca isn't an anxious mess with an inferiority complex."

Breda just shrugs again. "Harsh. But true."

Fuery shakes his head. "I just don't get it. Doesn't Roy notice anything?"

"Doesn't notice... or won't notice?" Falman muses, his eyes shifting.

Riza sighs, dipping her head again. "He's ignoring it. Has to be."

" But why?" Fuery asks.

"Easy. He thinks he doesn't deserve it, like he does with everything," Riza mutters.

Breda shakes his head, clicking his tongue. "Tch- Well they're a perfect match there. Jean acts like he'd rather lose his damn legs again than think he has a chance with him."

Riza groans softly. "Ugh- It's not about having chances, or being in the same league, relationships are hard enough without everyone making up silly rules that don't matter. Just TALK to each other."

"He's scared. So's Roy. That's all there is to it, at this point," Breda says, now with finality.

Falman hums in agreement, and Fuery just sighs sadly. No one says anything for several seconds, and the awkward silence is... well, awkward.

Suddenly, Riza rises to her feet, jerking her chair back and squaring her shoulders. "Well, I can't watch this anymore. Next time they're in here together, I'm leaving and locking the door behind me. Leave them in here overnight, if that's what it takes."

Fuery snorts behind her. "God- that's kind of extreme, isn't it?"

Riza side-eyes him over her shoulder. "Desperate times call for desperate measures. And those two are the most desperate I've ever seen."

Fuery just snorts harder. "Well, you got that right."

"A solid enough plan, unless Roy melts the door open," Falman points out, stroking his chin.

"Not if he doesn't have his gloves," Riza says coolly, glancing at him.

"He doesn't need them, he can do that clapping thing like Edward did, can't he?" Breda asks.

Riza closes her eyes, nodding slowly. "He can... and he wouldn't even need to use fire, just a metal transmutation to break the lock."

And then she looks at Breda again, this time with lidded eyes and a mischievous smile. "...He's forgetful under pressure, though."

Another look that Breda knows all too well. God help them.

[goodgoodpolypals]

What is simple in the moonlight, by morning never is || Chapter One

Simone presses her hand to her brow to shield her eyes from the setting sun, staring out into the distance expectantly. The air outside the fairgrounds is hot and sticky with late August humidity and it’s perfumed with the faint smell of manure, standing there alone forces Simone to focus on that, hyper aware of the way her hair is sticking to her forehead and causing her to regret her choice of wearing a knee length black skirt. Those concerns dissolve, however, when Tara comes into view, just barely a dot on the horizon. She’s dressed smarter, too-short shorts and a tank top,  her red hair collected in a messy ponytail that hangs low on the back of her head. It whips back and forth as she petals furiously on her bike, slowing when she does, letting her legs dangle loosely and draping her wrists over the handlebars as she enters the last stretch before arriving in front of the fair grounds.

Simone’s stomach flips like it always does when she sees her best friend. It’s followed by a strange constricting in her chest and a feeling she can’t pinpoint, but it always makes her want to chew on her lip. She does now, and she kicks herself for it like she always does, because this feeling that causes the impulse also terrifies her. She wants these feelings to be ones of platonic love, or at the very least she wants to believe these feelings are nothing more than that. But she knows that isn’t the truth. And she is acutely aware of that now, looking at Tara with her pink cheeks, her summer-tanned long legs on display, and that smile… That easy going, mischievous smile drives Simone crazy. And she’s wearing it now as she chains her bike to the metal bike rack.

Tara pushes a piece of Simone’s damp hair out of her face, cocking her head at her best friend before slipping the hair tie of her wrist and offering it to Simone. “You should put your hair up,” Tara suggests, and it’s such a little thing but Simone melts a little as she reaches for the band wordlessly, tying her hair up without question. That was the gist of their relationship, really, Tara came up with the ideas and Simone went along with them faithfully.

It had been Simone who was the bold and crazy one before Tara moved to town, she was a whole new storm unleashed, no, a hurricane was more accurate. She was the type of girl to drink gin straight from the bottle and demand the things she wanted and never settled for less. Simone was happy to give up her throne to her, she was deserving of it. And Tara chose her to befriend, and Simone counted herself lucky just for that. Which is why she feels so selfish for wanting more, and why she’s so scared of messing their friendship up.

“Ready?” Tara asks, holding out an arm. Simone links hers through it automatically, because is she ever.

The pair always does things up big, whether it be parties, shopping trips, sleepovers, or just school lunch in the cafeteria. But the fair is one of the things they do best. They buy wristbands for the whole night, they ride all the rides, and fill up on cotton candy and fried Twinkies, and ride all the rides again until they get sick, they dance chest to chest and out of tune with the music and they tease the boys who stare at them, they play all the games and rack up a whole bags worth of prizes between the two of them and at the end of the night they would sit on the concrete wall that serves as a divider between the parking lot and the fair grounds, eating powder-sugary funnel cakes and chase it with huge cups of ice cold lemonade as they wait for Simone’s mom to pick them up so they can spend the rest of the night talking about how much fun they had.

Things are a little different now that their older, but Simone knows it will still be a good time, because it always is with Tara.

As soon as they have their bracelets, Tara takes Simone’s hand and begins to tug her forward. Simone struggles to keep up with her lively friend as she is forced to weave through the crowd, laughing as she does, because it’s fun to be led by her, trustingly following only her hand and the faintest peek of her red hair. It isn’t until they come to a stop that Simone has a chance to ask what’s up with her, but by then she already has an idea, because it’s not a ride they are standing in front of (like Simone had assumed Tara was leading her towards) but a boy. He’s from their class, Simone knows that much and that’s about it. He’s got dark hair and a pair of glasses that makes him look slightly geeky, but it works for him, somehow, and Simone thinks that he is attractive, but not in the way she thinks Tara is.

“Simone, this is my friend Patrick. He kindly let me ‘borrow’ his answers in geography last year.” The sly grin Tara gives Simone is enough to tell her that her fear is confirmed: this is a set up. Tara is setting her up with her friend because she thinks SImone is lonely. Or she thinks it weird that Simone hasn’t dated anyone and seems to not have any interest in doing so.

Simone wants to be mad at her, especially since this isn’t the first time that she’s tried this, but she knows Tara means well. And it’s also hard to be mad at Tara at all. So instead, Simone jokes, “So this is the reason you can’t tell the east coast from the west?”

Tara snorts and punches Simone in the arm.

Even with the new tag along, things don’t change too much. They still ride all the rides, and then ride them all again when it gets dark enough to turn on the neon lights. It’s all the same, but it feels new in the glow of the pinks and greens and their screams are drowned out by music that gets cranked up as the night really begins. The tilt-a-whirl is Simone’s favorite, because it’s one of the few rides that seats three people, and thus is one of the few that actually allows her to ride with Tara. It’s also fun to work together to crank the big wheel in the center, making their car spin faster and faster until the world and the lights and the people outside of it is just a blur. Everything moves so fast outside that car but inside time seems slowed.

Simone is thrown up against Tara by the force and the sound of her laughter fills her ears, Simone’s hand involuntarily falling to Tara’s thigh, clutching on to it so hard that she leaves white marks where her fingers were when the ride finally stops and they untangle and stumble off. And while they right themselves and search for something to eat, Pat takes Simone’s hand. She doesn’t pull away, because his hand is warm and he is nice, and funny and smart and he and Simone have more in common than she’d originally thought. Tara notices, of course, and tosses a smile over her shoulder and wiggles her eyebrows. Simone’s cheeks heat up for reasons more than just being embarrassed.

The trio eventually find a wooden picnic table to squeeze into, Pat and Simone on one side, Tara on the other. They munch on hot dogs and slices of pizza and take turns sipping out of the supersized, too-sour fair lemonade they bought. Simone knows even in that moment, that she won’t be able to remember what they are even talking about. Video games, school, movies they’ve seen and want to see, it doesn’t matter. It’s a beautiful memory already.

Patrick gathers the table’s trash and excuses himself to the bathroom, and it’s just Simone and Tara left alone, sitting on opposite sides of the splinter-filled table. Simone is too caught up in the cotton candy sweet night that she isn’t even thinking about her feelings. But then Tara reminds her by saying, “You look amazing tonight, you know.” Simone nearly chokes on her own saliva and takes a gulp of the lemonade to cover it up. “So happy.” The smile on Tara’s lips isn’t her usual, this one is a little more mischievous.

“I’m having fun.” Simone is thankful for the pink neon lights on the food truck beside her, for the blush on her cheeks is unrelenting. She plays it off as a light hearted compliment but Simone can feel her heart in her throat as she says “You’re beautiful too. As always.” Tara laughs and Simone is thankful that she didn’t find it too weird.

“Hey, let’s take a picture,” Tara suggests, patting the wooden bench beside her. “To commemorate tonight.” Simone follows, of course, and finds herself pressed up against her best friend, the warm skin of their arms pressed against each other’s, the dark hair that has escaped from Simone’s ponytail tickles Tara’s shoulder and they grin from ear to ear as Tara snaps the picture. Simone thinks it’s the best one she’s ever been in. She tells her to send it to her, and Tara does, and Simone knows already that she is going to print it out and hang it on her wall, and frame it and have it as her phone background. Because not only do they look good in it, but because it will always be a constant reminder of the moment before it was snapped.

Simone had been staring at the screen, at Tara’s half of the screen, and she realized that she could never be with Pat. Ever since Tara had introduced him Simone really had been giving it thought, because he was a good guy, and having him around hadn’t ruined the night like she’d originally thought, and they made a fucking awesome trio. Simone thought she could learn to love him like she does Tara, but in that moment before the picture, she realized that wasn’t true. Not as long as Tara was around.

Suddenly, pulling Simone out of her thoughts, Tara’s hand comes down on her arm. “We have to dance.” She says it so serious that Simone laughs, but Tara keeps a grim expression. The song that is playing is a popular, horrible but catchy pop song, and those are always the best to dance to. So Simone agrees and they pull their legs out from under the table and find the spot with the most room. It’s a big patch of dirt, under a tree, and even though no one else is dancing, Tara pulls Simone right into it.

The best part is they don’t take themselves too seriously. Simone pretends to be really into dabbing and Tara does some grinding move on her butt which makes Simone blush yet again. Then Tara takes her hand and spins her around a few times, and then more, until she goes from feeling like a princess to feeling dizzy and she pushes Tara playfully. Simone is laughing, and it’s a loud and terrible laugh that people like to make fun of, but never Tara, and even now it only makes her laugh as well, even though it’s drawing everyone's attention.

When Pat comes back they only stick around long enough to tell him that it was their turn to go to the bathroom. And it’s  when they squeezed into the cramped and too-warm bathroom that Tara finally asks, “So what do you think of Pat?”

How fitting, since she’d just had her own epiphany about him. Tara is looking at herself in the mirror, reapplying her vanilla chapstick that makes the air around her smell just a little bit better, and Simone leans her back against the sink next to hers. “He’s cool. You didn’t have to set me up, though.”

“I know, I know,” It’s Tara’s form of apology, and Simone shrugs it off. “Believe it or not,” Tara begins, turning so she’s also leaning against her sink, “He actually had eyes for you first. He wanted me to put in a good word.”

It’s only a little shocking to Simone, guys often had little crushes on her or thought she was attractive. But Simone was never interested, for obvious reasons. “He’s not really my type.”

This floors Tara, and she throws up her hands, “What?! He’s just like you!”

Simone is straightfaced as she shrugs. “Maybe that’s it. We’re too alike. Opposites attract, you know.” The lie feels odd in her throat as it comes up, because she doesn’t like to lie to Tara, but she does it seamlessly. Tara punches her shoulder playfully, and then wraps her arm around Simone.

“You’re impossible to please. Sometimes I think you’re just trying to be difficult.”

“I like to see you work for me.”

They spend the rest of the night walking around, chatting about whatever comes to mind and playing a few fair games every once and awhile. Simone and Tara do exceptionally well, Pat not so much, and they both give them their prizes. They stay until the last possible second, and they watch the crowd get thinner and thinner and as the speaker announces last call, Simone thinks it must be destiny, because they are standing right in front of the Ferris wheel. Of course they’ve already went on it a few times, but every time Tara would make sure Pat and Simone would ride together, and Simone sees this as the perfect opportunity.

Simone takes Tara’s hand in her own, tugging her toward the ride, explaining to Pat, whose arms are full of prizes, that they will be right back. Tara questions her but Simone doesn’t answer until the ride operator corrals them into a cart, looking less than pleased that someone actually showed up for last call. “We couldn’t not ride the ferris wheel together. It’s kind of tradition.”

Tara crosses her arms, feigning anger at not being consulted, and she looks down at Pat. Eventually though she gives way to agreement, “I guess it kind of is.”

And they both share silence as the ride moves up, and they are both remembering the first time they came to the fair together, and how scared Tara was of riding the ferris wheel because she was afraid of heights. But Simone had wanted to go on it, so Tara toughened up. But that didn’t stop her from clutching Simone’s hand and digging her nails into her flesh when they reached the peak, and squealing each time her stomach dropped as the ride did. But after a while, she got used to it. And they’ve ridden religiously  it ever since.

Simone takes Tara’s hand and it shocks both of them. But neither pulls away. The go a few loops in silence, enjoying the view of the city below, the music faded until it’s background noise, and Simone is glad this is how the night is going to end.

She looks over at Tara and suddenly feels compelled to confess her feelings. She doesn’t know what it is, if it’s the way strands of red hair have escaped Tara’s ponytail and are flying around in the wind, or if it’s the content look of concentration on her face as she looks over the rail, or maybe it’s just because this is her best friend, and keeping secrets isn’t in their nature.

“Tara…” She looks to Simone, and can tell right away that she’s struggling. Before she can ask what’s wrong though, Simone decides that if she can’t say what she’s feeling, she can show her, and she leans forward to press a kiss to Tara’s lips. It lasts only a second but feels like a lifetime for Simone, and she can taste the blue coconut slush she’d drank and her vanilla chapstick and she feels so fucking happy.

And then the kiss is over, and the silence resumes.

When the ride stops, Tara tells Patrick that they are heading out and Simone thanks him for the good time. It’s still quiet as they walk toward the parking lot, tugging at the impossible to rip wristbands. The silence doesn’t bother Simone, it isn’t uncomfortable to her, and it doesn’t even occur to her that she might have messed up until she climbs onto the concrete wall to wait for her mother to pick them up and sees Tara unchaining and climbing onto her bike.

“Hey I’ve got to go.”

Simone stifles her shock and nods. Tara mirrors the gesture and is about to head off when Simone calls again, “We are cool right, because---”

Tara cuts her off, “Of course we are!” She’s smiling her usual smile, and it relieves Simone, but she still feels embarrassed and afraid with the high of the kiss quickly fading. And as she watches Tara disappear into the dark, Simone smacks her hand against her forehead and wishes she could have just settled for Pat after all.